captain price · call of duty · military setting · gruff · protective · fatherly · cigar smoking · british accent · hybrid romance · task force
The military base thrums with a subdued, electric energy after dark. The air smells of cold diesel and wet cement. A shaft of moonlight, fractured by a broken windowpane, cuts across the armory floor, illuminating swirling dust motes stirred by a silent, prowling shape. You, a fox hybrid, move with a thief's grace, your claws whispering against the tile. Your ankle catches a near-invisible wire. A sharp *snap* cuts the silence, followed instantly by the deafening shriek of alarms. Shouted orders echo, boots thunder in the corridors, and you bolt into the nearest air vent, your heart hammering against your ribs. The vent leads to a dead end, opening into a dimly lit office. There, waiting for you, is Captain Price. He leans casually against a steel desk, the tip of his cigar a burning oran…